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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233346">i was looking for a breath of life (it was you)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectomoony/pseuds/expectomoony'>expectomoony</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Chronic Illness, Eddie Kaspbrak is a Little Shit, F/F, F/M, High School, M/M, Major Illness, Protective Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sickfic, Slow Burn, Soft Richie Tozier, Teenage Losers Club (IT), cystic fibrosis, eddie has cf, eddie's health deteriorates over the course of the story so like watch out, god i hope i didn't miss any tags, idk if this is gonna be a one time thing or not, losers in love, my first time doing something like this oops, possible character death? idk yet, sonia is kind of decent in this one? like still crazy but decent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 05:01:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,027</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25233346</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectomoony/pseuds/expectomoony</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Eddie is fully hunched over, hacking his lungs out. Richie despises the sound of Eddie’s coughing. It’s so thick and wet and each individual cough sounds painful. It probably is.</p><p>“Shit, Eds, I’m sorry.” Richie stumbles across the room to start pounding on Eddie’s back the way he’s done since they were kids. The coughs begin to subside and then Eddie is glaring up at Richie.<br/>~<br/>Richie Tozier is one hundred percent NOT in love with his best friend. Said best friend is kinda sorta dying right in front of him, but Richie's in the pits of denial at this point. Eddie can barely breathe but he isn't interested in putting up with Richie's bullshit anymore. Bev is a lesbian disaster, Stan pretends he isn't infatuated with the ever oblivious Bill, and Mike and Ben just kind of pick up the pieces every time one of them falls apart (which is often). Sick Eddie, worried Richie, etc.</p><p>title from breath of life from florence + the machine</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Beverly Marsh/Original Female Character(s), Bill Denbrough/Audra Phillips, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Mike Hanlon/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>45</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>okay okay this is my first time writing fic in ages. i saw a cf au for another fandom and was really into the idea (i've been reading a lot of cf books lately) and wanted to try it out in the IT universe. i also like fics where eddie is actually sick and sonia's nuttiness is somewhat justified. any medical stuff is all googled/read/seen on tv so uhh i did my best. anyway let me know what you think :)) this is the eddie w cystic fibrosis au that literally not a single soul asked for teehee</p><p>if you aren't familiar with cystic fibrosis, it's basically a mucus disease that fucks up the body, especially the lungs and pancreas. the lungs fill w mucus and the body can't really digest food properly. lung transplants can extend the lifespan of cf patients by several years, but it's basically always fatal. i personally don't have cf, all my information is from my own research, so please tell me if i've made any mistakes :)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><em> Get Eddie and hurry up over here. </em> Stan isn’t one for formalities (or even basic politeness, for that matter) when it comes to texting. Richie isn’t about to just <em> disobey </em>Stan though, and anyway, he was already about to leave for Eddie’s house. </p><p>Eddie only lives down the block, so actually riding his bike isn’t necessary. Richie could just walk it down to Eddie’s house and then they’ll both bike over to the quarry. If Eddie’s up to it, anyway. Richie hopes he is. Eddie’s been doing pretty good lately, but Richie doesn’t wanna jinx it or anything.</p><p>The door to the Kaspbrak house is usually locked, because Sonia is under the impression that someone is gonna break in during the night and kidnap her son or steal her chips. Both of which are valid concerns in Richie’s eyes, even if he thinks locking doors is for pussies and old people. Good thing there’s a tree next to Eddie’s window that is exponentially easy to climb. </p><p>Richie’s left his bike under the tree and made his way up the branches like he’s done a hundred times before. As usual, Eddie’s window is open. Sonia thinks fresh air will help clear his fucked-up lungs. Richie thinks this is just brilliant. He scoots down the longest-reaching branch and drops himself into Eddie’s room.</p><p>Bad idea. Eddie, as usual, is startled, and lets out a gasp. This gasp turns into a cough and then Eddie is fully hunched over, hacking his lungs out. Richie despises the sound of Eddie’s coughing. It’s so thick and wet and each individual cough sounds painful. It probably is.</p><p>“Shit, Eds, I’m sorry.” Richie stumbles across the room to start pounding on Eddie’s back the way he’s done since they were kids. The coughs begin to subside and then Eddie is glaring up at Richie.</p><p>“Dumb fucking idiot. You’re lucky I already did my vest, you know, otherwise you’d probably have fucking killed me. You want my blood on your hands?” Richie does his best not to laugh. Eddie’s attempts at intimidation are adorable at best.</p><p>“I think it’d more likely be your gross ass mucus, but nah, I’d rather not.”</p><p>Eddie flips the middle finger at Richie and goes back to piling things into his backpack. Meds, check. Inhaler, check. Nebulizer, check. Whatever the fuck else that boy shoves in there, check. He coughs a few more times before saying, “Okay, let’s go. Out the door, though.” He looks pointedly at Richie, who’s tried and failed several times to get his best friend out the window and down the tree with him. </p><p>“Finally. Stan won’t leave me the fuck alone. I’m not sure what he wants us there for that’s so important, but you know how pissy he gets. Come on.” Even though it’s Eddie’s house, Richie is the one leading them down the stairs to the front door. When they’re outside, Richie pretends he doesn’t notice how out of breath Eddie is just from descending the staircase.</p><p>He goes around the side to grab his bike and when he comes back, Eddie is mounting his. Richie gives him this look, a sort of half-raised-eyebrow thing that Eddie knows all too well.</p><p>“Rich, I’m fine. I can ride my bike down to the fucking quarry,” he grumbles. Richie just sighs and starts pedaling after Eddie, who is as stubborn as he is sick. </p><p>Richie refuses to ride in front of Eddie. He always has, ever since the day Eddie passed out on his bike and Richie was blocks ahead before he realized. He doesn’t want to risk anything like that happening again. Sure, he can’t go as fast as he’d like to, but he doesn’t really care if it means he’s keeping Eddie safe.</p><p>They’re at the quarry and tossing their bikes onto the pile and Eddie collapses onto the ground, drawing in deep, heaving breaths, which ultimately turn into coughs. Mike, who’s next to him, rubs his back gently. Richie ignores the sting of jealousy he feels over this and plops down next to Eddie. He turns to Stan, who’s leaning against Bill and staring into what can only be oblivion. </p><p>“Stan,” Richie prompts. The boy in question turns, his face blank. “Dude. What do you want from us? You’re the one that dragged me and Eds down here.”</p><p>Beverly laughs. “Oh, that was me. I just didn’t feel like wasting my time texting you so I made Stan do it instead.”</p><p>“I’m her slave, apparently,” Stan calls out.</p><p>“Yes. You are. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you guys about some pretty important shit.”</p><p>“How important?” Asks Mike, knowing that Beverly uses the word “important” rather sparingly.</p><p>“Well,” she considers this. “I’ve got a list. I’ll start with shit that isn’t important. Bill, one of the girls in the musical with me is fucking obsessed with you.”</p><p>Bill, who had been tracing shapes on Stan’s shoulder, snaps around to look at Bev. Stan immediately sits up, a slight scowl on his face. “What?” Bill asks, the dismay in his voice evident.</p><p>Bev rolls her eyes. “Yeah, one of the hot box girls. You know, the ones who have an entire number where they strip on stage.” At this, Bill’s eyes widen. Now the idiot is paying attention. “I think her name is Audrey? I don’t know, they all kind of look the same. But I overheard her and her friend during rehearsal the other day and they were talking about how <em> cute </em>Billy Denbrough from varsity baseball is.” She puckers her lips at Bill, who groans. “She’s very cute Bill, honestly. Curly hair and little dimples. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.”</p><p>Ben laughs and it’s very clearly forced. It’s been nearly two years since his and Bev’s failed relationship, and even though they’re pretty much fine with each other now, it’s obvious that he’s still trying to reconcile in his mind that while Bev doesn’t have any issue with men, she just likes women a <em> lot </em>more. Ben may or may not overdo it on the whole “support” part.</p><p>“Well, Bill? What are you gonna do about it?” There’s an easy smile on Mike’s face as he asks this. He wouldn’t intentionally tease any of them, but he also doesn’t mind seeing his friends flounder a bit. </p><p>Bill is, indeed, floundering. His face is red and he’s stuttering just a little bit, like he used to when they were kids. He never really did grow out of it. “I…w-what d-do you want me t-to d-do about it?”</p><p>“I’ve already figured it out,” Bev says. “You can pick me up from rehearsal next week. Your practice ends half an hour before, so just come and wait around in the auditorium for me. I can introduce y’all and you can strike up a conversation or whatever it is you hets do.”</p><p>Stanley grumbles, glaring at Bev. “He never said he <em> wanted </em>to be set up with one of your theater girls.”</p><p>Quickly, Bill says, “I m-mean, I wouldn’t m-mind. You said she’s c-c-cute, right?”</p><p>“Very,” Bev nods. Bill shrugs, like, <em> okay, sure, why not. </em>Stan does not look the least bit happy, but it only seems to be Richie who notices this. “Okay, second thing. You’re all fucking lame.” The group barely blinks at this.</p><p>“Proof?” Richie asks idly. He’s toying with one of the strings on Eddie’s hoodie and Eddie has long since given up trying to slap his hands away.</p><p>“You, more than anyone else.” Bev leans forward on her knees. “Look. I do theater. Bill plays fucking baseball, which is actually kind of cool. Stan, like, takes pictures, I don’t know.”</p><p>“Beverly, I’m on the yearbook staff.”</p><p>“I don’t care. It’s lame.” Stan rolls his eyes and Bev carries on. “Mike, you’re on student council or something like that, right?”</p><p>Mike chuckles. “Yeah, treasury.”</p><p>“Okay.” She looks Richie dead in the eye. “Do you see how the rest of them are actually participating in everyday life and not just blasting shitty 90s music and wallowing in their own self-pity?”</p><p>Richie nods.</p><p>“Good. Use it as an example. I need you to get off your ass and <em> do </em>something, Tozier. Same goes for Ben and Eddie. Don’t think I forgot you fools.” Eddie looks sheepish at this. Ben tries to pretend he isn’t phased but they all know he is. </p><p>“So…what you’re telling me is that I need to actually do stuff at school besides, like, school?” Richie kicks one leg out and lays it across Eddie’s lap. Eddie rolls his eyes but doesn’t try to move it.</p><p>“Yes. Something productive, please. And not something weird either, like LARP.”</p><p>“I don’t even know what that stands for,” Eddie says.</p><p>“Good,” says Bev. “I’m serious. I need to see the three of you <em> doing shit </em>more. You know it’s because I care about you.”</p><p>Eddie pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt over his hands. Richie knows this means he’s anxious. “Bev, that’s good and all, but I’m hardly at school half the time. And it’s not like I can play sports or anything.”</p><p>Beverly smiles sweetly at Eddie. “I know. That’s why I already signed you up to be on the lighting committee for Guys and Dolls. All you have to do is sit in the lighting booth and press buttons. They’ll show you how to do it.”</p><p>Eddie is evidently surprised, but he just shrugs. Bev has already saved him a step and it isn’t a very particularly tasking thing to do.</p><p>“Did ya pick one for me, too, Bev?” Richie asks hopefully, wiggling his eyebrows at her.</p><p>“No, Tozier, I think you’re a big boy. You can figure that shit out yourself. Same with you, Benny.”</p><p>Eddie lets out a cry of indignance. “Wait, are you saying I’m <em> not </em> a big boy?”</p><p>“Babe, I love you,” Bev tells him, “but you barely scrape 5’6”.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>They’ve been wandering the quarry for hours, with the occasional breaks in between that everyone knows is for Eddie’s benefit, even if no one will say so. They’re having fun, they always do, but it’s getting dark and they have school tomorrow and the ones with parents who actually care need to start getting home.</p><p>Richie looks Eddie up and down (no, he’s not checking him out). The boy is pale and he’s wheezing. Richie picks up his bike and wheels it over to Eddie. “Get on the back.”</p><p>Eddie frowns. “I can ride my fucking bike, Rich, it’s fine, I—”</p><p>Richie cuts him off. “No. Not having this discussion. Get on the back of my fucking bike, Kaspbrak. We’ll come back for yours tomorrow.”</p><p>“No way!” Eddie snaps. “I’m not fucking leaving my bike here! Someone could steal it.”</p><p>Richie rolls his eyes at this. “Trust me, Eds, no one wants your shitty bike. I’ll take you back here tomorrow to get it, but I’m not letting you ride it home. Your mom will kill me.” This is true. She will. Eddie can’t argue with that, so begrudgingly, he climbs onto the back of the bike and wraps his arms around Richie’s waist. Richie feels something flutter inside his stomach when Eddie does this, so he decides to do what he does best and just ignore it. It doesn’t subside the entire ride home.</p><p>They pull up into Eddie’s driveway and he’s coughing and Richie is swearing. He helps Eddie off the bike and lets it fall to the ground. Eddie is hacking and spluttering, but nothing is coming up. He can barely stay upright from all of it. Richie ushers him up the walkway and inside the front door. </p><p>“Dude, sit down. I’ll get your vest.” Eddie obeys, sliding down the wall onto the floor, still coughing up a storm. Sonia comes rushing over to comfort her son. Richie will give her credit for that.</p><p>Years of being Eddie’s best friend means Richie is almost about as versed in Eddie’s illness as Eddie himself is. He knows how to administer nebulizers, how to hook up the vest. He’s been there through dozens of hospital admissions and doctor’s appointments. Hell, he even knows what color mucus Eddie’s supposed to be spitting up.</p><p>He comes back down the stairs with the vest and Eddie is still in the spot by the door. Sonia’s holding a trash bin to catch whatever mucus Eddie can get up, but it isn’t much. Richie helps get the vest onto Eddie, who tries to protest because he knows it will hurt, but ultimately gives in. Pretty soon the vest is vibrating and Eddie is getting up <em> the good shit, </em>as Richie likes to say. It’s hurting him, though, Richie can tell. Eddie’s doing everything he can not to cry. Richie hates seeing his best friend hurt like this, despite being so used to it. He takes hold of Eddie’s free hand and rubs it softly.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>The first thing Richie does when he wakes up is text Eddie.</p><p>
  <em> you good dude? </em>
</p><p>Eddie, as always, responds almost immediately.</p><p>
  <em> Good as I can be I guess </em>
</p><p>Richie’ll take it. It’s better than <em> bad. </em></p><p>Within fifteen minutes (Richie doesn’t actually do much in terms of getting ready), he’s waiting for Eddie at the bus stop. Buses are loud and full of germs that Eddie could catch, but it’s that or walking. It used to be Eddie always waiting for Richie, but over the years Eddie’s slowed down and anyway, Richie would rather get there first. He pretends this doesn’t bother him.</p><p>Soon Eddie is trudging over to stand beside Richie. The hood of his sweatshirt is up, and he’s wearing a jacket over it. Richie looks at Eddie’s fingers and knows without grabbing them that they’re cold. He grabs them anyway, because it annoys Eddie, and because Richie likes having Eddie’s hand in his own.</p><p>“My patience is running thin, today, Tozier,” Eddie warns, although he doesn’t tug his hand away. There’s a raspiness to his voice as he speaks. “RT took way too fucking long this morning and Mom was half ready to drag me to the doctor.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t blame her,” Richie says as the bus pulls up in front of them. Instinctively, he drops Eddie’s hand. “You were kinda wrecked last night, dude.”</p><p>“I’ve been worse,” Eddie mutters as they board the bus. God, does Richie ever know.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>okay! there's that. chapter one, i guess? i'll write more even if no one wants to read it because i really have nothing better to do. tell me what you love or hate please.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hi here's chapter two! thanks to the people who left comments. i'm trying to establish the characters/story so this might be a little slow, but i promise the ~drama~ will pick up soon enough.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie’s choking down enzyme pills, Richie is blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk, Ben is cramming for whatever test he has next period, Bev is making Stan run lines with her, Bill is doodling something in his sketchpad, and Mike is just chewing his sandwich and watching them all.</p><p>It’s a typical school lunch period for them.</p><p>It’s still warm enough to eat outside, so they’re all piled onto one of the wooden picnic tables underneath a large oak tree. There’s students playing catch, running around, laughing, vaping, making out. Variety, you know?</p><p>“Eddie, did you do the geometry last night?” Richie’s got a blank worksheet in front of him. Eddie, having just swallowed some soup, scowls and fishes the sheet out of his backpack and thrusts it at Richie, who beams back in response. “Thanks, Eds, you’re a doll.” The doll in question rolls his eyes.</p><p>“Richie,” Bev says, taking a break from her script, “Have you figured out something to do yet? Because Ben joined cross country this morning.” Richie stares at Ben, who offers a half-hearted smile.</p><p>“Dude, tryouts for all the sports are pretty much over. And I don’t really know what else there is here that people do besides run around on a field and hit balls or run around on stage and sing.” Bev slaps his shoulder for that one.</p><p>“There’s clubs, too,” says Ben. “All sorts of different ones. They usually accept people year-round.”</p><p>“Richie should join cosplay club,” Stan deadpans. Richie ignores him.</p><p>Eddie coughs and says, “Rich, just work in the lighting and sound booth with me. Trish says we need one more person and it means I can actually hold you accountable and make sure you aren’t doing stupid shit.”</p><p>Richie considers this. An open invitation to spend more time with Eddie? Yes please. And Bev said it herself, it’s basically just sitting around. “Yeah, okay. Sure.”</p><p>“Eddie,” Bev admonishes, “He’s supposed to find something <em> himself. </em>” She doesn’t really look upset, though. She and everyone else knows it’s either this or Richie smoking pot behind the cafeteria after school, so she’ll take it.</p><p>“We only have to show up Fridays for now, so we can pretty much just fuck around the rest of the week while they’re all busy.” Eddie takes a long swig of water and jabs his thumb in the general direction of the others.</p><p>This sounds good to Richie.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Richie sits down in his American History class and realizes at once that Eddie isn’t in his assigned spot two rows down. He excuses himself to the bathroom and starts down the hall for the nurse’s office, because there’s really nowhere else Eddie would be. He can hear the coughs before he even steps inside, and sure enough, Eddie is perched on one of the cots with his nebulizer mask over his face. He notices Richie and looks up over at him, but it’s not like he can say anything while he’s inhaling whatever is in the neb. Richie sits down next to him and feels the cot sag slightly under their shared weight. Eddie can’t do much more than grunt in response. He moves the mask to cough into the basin on his lap. Richie, for reasons unknown to him, has never been grossed out by Eddie’s lung mucus. Instead, he finds it somewhat fascinating. The color, the texture. He can even identify certain types of the bacteria living in Eddie’s lungs based on the appearance of the mucus. He’s a bit less quick to disclose this, though. Maybe it’s one of those <em> boys love gross things </em>things.</p><p>Eddie finishes his treatment and slumps against Richie’s shoulder, letting out a soft sigh. He’s tired. Unconsciously, Richie reaches up to rub small circles into the smaller boy’s back. They don’t speak. They don’t have to.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It’s Friday and they’re headed down to the auditorium for a run-through on how to operate the sound and lighting booth. Richie just wants to get it over with so he can go home and play Red Dead Redemption with Eddie. Eddie’s been quiet today, and Richie can’t tell if it means he isn’t feeling well or if it’s just one of Eddie’s mood swings. He desperately hopes it’s the latter.</p><p>Up in the booth, they wait for their instructor. They have a full view of the stage from here, which means they’ve got a full view of Bev dancing around onstage. There’s no mics so they can’t hear what she’s singing, but the girl is clearly very into it.</p><p>“Eddie, do you know what show this?” Richie asked as they watched Beverly shout something at one of the junior boys performing the song with her.</p><p>“Richie, are you dumb?” Eddie scoffs. “There’s been flyers all over the school since auditions. Bev talks about it all the fucking time. Where have you been?”</p><p>“Not reading the flyers, apparently.” Richie leans back in his chair and he’s about to put his feet up on what he assumes is the sound board when there’s a <em> thump </em>coming up the stairs behind them.</p><p>Richie doesn’t know much about Patricia Blum, except that she’s a freshman and she’s <em> tiny. </em> That much is obvious. Looking at her, even sitting down, he thinks she even five foot would be a generous measurement of her. What she’s lacking in size, though, she’s attempting to make up for in <em> mean angry intimidating scowl. </em>This is how it seems, at least.</p><p>“Hi, Trish,” Eddie greets. </p><p>She glares at Richie. “I don’t know who you are, but sit up and get your nasty shoes <em> off </em>the control panel.” Richie, surprised by the sudden demandingness, straightens up and raises his hands in surrender.</p><p>“Oh, Trish, this is Richie. I told you he’d be helping us out.” </p><p>Patricia seems to relax a bit. “Oh, okay. Well, fine. Hi Richie. I’m Patricia, or Trish, whatever. I’m in charge of lighting and sound for the musical.”</p><p>Richie frowns at the girl. “Aren’t you a freshman? I thought it was usually upperclassmen who headed stuff like that.”</p><p>Trish blushes just a little bit. “Well, yeah, but my older sister who graduated last year ran it before me. She showed me how to do everything, so…” she gestured around, “here we are.”</p><p>“Here we are,” repeated Richie. “So are you gonna how show us how to work this shit or what?”</p><p>Eddie rolled his eyes and huffed. Patricia smiled slightly and made her way over to the control panel.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Trish spent the afternoon showing the boys how to press buttons, among other things, and now they’re curled up on Richie’s couch in front of the tv. Richie’s shoving chips into his mouth and Eddie won’t stop fiddling with the remote because no matter how many channels he clicks through, he can’t ever decide on one. Richie uses this as an opportunity to scoot just a few inches closer to his best friend. Not for any particular reason. Just cause, ya know. Richie likes to be close to people. That’s all. </p><p>The back door swings open and Maggie Tozier is entering with an armload of groceries, in all her middle-aged mother glory. She sets the bags down on the kitchen counter (paper, because Maggie Tozier is a woman who cares about the environment) and smiles over at the back of the boys’ heads. She loves Eddie like he’s her own son. Richie <em> is </em>her own son, and admittedly he’s a bit of a pain in the ass, but she loves him as well. </p><p>“Hey, boys.” She walks over to the couch to rest a hand on each boy’s shoulder. It’s a gesture that while Richie might pretend to hate, Eddie will always soak up. He pulls his knees up onto the couch and turns around to beam up at her.</p><p>“Hi, Maggie. How was your day?” Richie could choke at how insufferably polite Eddie’s always been to Maggie. <em> Way to make me look shitty, Eds. </em></p><p>Maggie, on the other hand, eats that shit up. Especially because she knows it annoys Richie. “Oh, it was pretty pleasant, actually. I worked the morning shift so I had plenty of time to grocery shop. Thank you so much for asking, Eddie.” Yeah, they both hammed it up a little more than they needed to in the interest of pushing Richie’s buttons. Sue them. </p><p>Richie takes this chance to seize the remote and now he’s changing channels to something he might actually want to watch. “Did you finally get any good food?”</p><p>“No, Richard. I got <em> bad </em>food. All of it’s expired and social services will probably have to come get you and take you away solely because of all the terrible food I’ve brought home.”</p><p>“Good. Then I can finally go somewhere it isn’t commonplace to eat quinoa at dinner.”</p><p>Maggie ignores her son and walks around to sit between them. Richie is just the slightest bit annoyed that his mother is putting more space between himself and Eddie. She doesn’t seem to notice, or care, for that matter. She’s focused on Eddie, who she hasn’t seen since his last hospital admission. “It’s been a minute, honey. I haven’t seen you around. Have you been doing all right?” She gives him one of those <em> Mom </em>looks, the kind he only wishes he could get from his own mother.</p><p>Eddie nods. “Yeah, a lot better, actually. Whatever antibiotics they gave me last month helped a lot. I’ve been in school pretty much every day. My mom just freaks, you know, so she didn’t want me out of the house for a while.”</p><p>Maggie nods. “I don’t blame her, you know. Especially considering how much time you spend with this one.” She ruffles Richie’s hair, and he shoots a glare at her. “He’s about the worst influence you can find.”</p><p>“Aren’t mothers supposed to fawn over their sons and find pride in everything they do?” Richie says.</p><p>“I don’t know what kind of mother I would be if I <em> wasn’t </em> constantly pointing out your flaws,” Maggie laughs. Richie laughs, too. God, he loves his mom.</p><p>She turns her attention back to the other boy beside her. “Eddie, sweetheart, are you staying for dinner?” </p><p>Eddie shrugs, then nods. “Yeah, if that’s okay, I guess so. Fridays are when my mom watches her Jeopardy reruns.” He makes a face.</p><p>“Perfect.” Maggie stands up and claps her hands together. “I’ll go start on the sauce. Went will be home later tonight, around nine.” She disappears into the kitchen.</p><p>When she’s gone, Eddie’s eyes dart back to the tv. “What the fuck? Put NCIS back on. I hate South Park.” He reaches for the remote, but Richie whips it away.</p><p>“Eds, I’m not watching your boring ass cop show. South Park is <em> funny. </em>”</p><p>“South Park is <em> racist, </em>Richie. Among about another thousand things.” They have this argument weekly, at the very least. Neither of them will admit to how much they love it.</p><p>Richie huffs. “It’s not racist, it’s satire! It’s making fun of actual racist and bigoted people. And anyway, it’s <em> my </em>house, so I’m in charge of the tv.”</p><p>Eddie leans over and easily swipes the remote from Richie’s hand. “Yeah, but I’m the guest so you have to be nice to me.”</p><p>“Fuck you, Kaspbrak.”</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>It’s Eddie’s coughs, as usual, that wake Richie up. He fumbles for his phone in the dark. 11:27. Not that late. At some point after dinner, Eddie had stretched out along the length of the couch, leaving Richie to the floor. At some point later, he’d fallen asleep, and so Richie had fallen asleep as well. Now his back is against the base of the sofa and he can feel Eddie’s breath tickling his ear.</p><p>“Eds,” he whispers. His mouth is just inches from Eddie’s face. “Eddie.”</p><p>Eddie stirs just slightly. Eyes still closed, he answers, “What? ‘M sleeping.”</p><p>“It’s almost midnight,” Richie whispers. “Don’t you gotta get home? Sonia’s gonna flip her shit.”</p><p>“Nah,” Eddie murmurs. “She tracks my phone. She knows I’m at your house so it’s fine.”</p><p>Richie shoots an incredulous stare at Eddie, who doesn’t even see. “Fine? Dude. Don’t you remember last month when your mother nearly fucking broke down our door and choked me with her own hands?”</p><p>Eddie, still half asleep, snorts softly. “That didn’t happen, Richie. And anyway, I chewed her out after that.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” </p><p>“Y’know. Yelled at her. Told her she was being dumb to not trust me with you. You’re basically like my second mom anyway, with how much you fucking nag at me.” Eddie turns over and is asleep again.</p><p>In the dark, Richie smiles to himself.</p><p> </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>“Is he asleep again?” That’s Bev, sprawled out on Richie’s living room floor. Richie looks over to the couch and sure enough, Eddie’s out cold for the second time today.</p><p>“Yeah. He fell asleep here two nights ago, too. It’s pretty much all he does on weekends at this point.”</p><p>“Is he like, okay?” Bev is an actress, and so she’s usually pretty good at hiding her worry. Not when it comes to Eddie, though.</p><p>Richie shrugs. “I don’t know. He’s fine, I guess. For now.” He doesn’t want to talk about this. “Where’s Ben and Bill? I know Mike had to do farm shit today.”</p><p>“Ben’s at church.”</p><p>Richie scoffs at this. “Ben still goes to church?”</p><p>“Some people have morals and values, Richie. But mostly I think his mother drags him along with her.”</p><p>“Lame. What about Bill?”</p><p>“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Bev lifts her head up from the floor. “He’s out on a date with Audra from the musical. The one I was telling y’all about.”</p><p>Stan, who’s been reading in one of the armchairs for the last half hour, reacts rather violently (violent for Stan, at least) to this. “What? He’s actually <em> dating </em>her?”</p><p>Bev rolls her eyes. “They’re <em> on a date, </em>Stan. It’s not the same thing. But I introduced them last week and they hit it off, so, you know.” She shrugs. She doesn’t know what the big deal is.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t he tell me he’s ditching us for a <em> girl?” </em>Stan’s fists curl even further into themselves. Anyone can tell he’s about ten seconds away from throwing his book at Beverly’s head, if only because she happened to be the bearer of this bad news.</p><p>“Probably because he knew you’d act like a freak about it,” Bev answers with a smirk. “Come on Stan. It doesn’t really matter. Bill’s allowed to have fun without you.”</p><p>“No, he’s not,” Stan mutters, flipping the page of his book rather aggressively.</p><p>Richie’s watching this exchange and he’s thinking that maybe he gets where Stan’s coming from. Stan and Bill are best friends, just like him and Eddie. He glances over at the boy still sleeping on the couch, and feels some sort of twinge inside of him that he can’t quite place, but he thinks it must be what Stan is feeling. If Eddie went on a date and didn’t tell Richie, he’d be pissed too. He’d feel excluded. That’s it. Not anything else. Just…excluded. And Eddie would probably feel the same. Richie hopes, anyway.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>thanks for reading! please tell me what you think :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey guys, it's been a minute. life has been, in short, a shitshow the past nine or so months. time flies even when you're not having fun. but things are getting better, and i came back to this story (abandonment was never my intention). i need to fill my time so i'm hoping to start turning out chapters more regularly. i wrote the first half of this chapter last summer and finally just finished it. it's not great and the story still hasn't really picked up, but i guess it's also just not really that type of story anyway. thanks to everyone who's left kudos in the time between now and my last update. i hope this makes up for my absence :) it's a bit all over the place but i was mostly just having fun with the characters for my own sake</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Honestly, when Bev said she was in the m-musical, I d-didn’t think she’d actually be c-c-cute. Theater kids don’t tend to be.” Bill earns himself a particularly sharp slap from Bev, but she’s smiling and she knows he doesn’t mean it. “She’s funny, actually, and really sweet.” Bill grins. “She’s coming to my game this week and we’re going out again afterwards.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bev and Richie whoop. Ben claps Bill on the back and Mike throws him a thumbs up. “Nice, man.” It’s only Stan who says nothing. He’s picking crumbs of bread off his sandwich to throw to a group of nearby birds, and he doesn’t look particularly happy in the least. Richie notices this, and he feels a beat of sympathy for his friend. He doesn’t say anything, though, because he’s not an idiot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But neither is Bev, and she must pick up on something too, because she changes the subject out of nowhere. “Ben, how’s cross country going?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben, to his credit, does his best to mask the deer-in-headlights-look. His best isn’t enough, though, because anyone can see how thoroughly caught off-guard the boy is. He stops, eyes wide, sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Oh. Um…good! Great, actually. Running is just…super fun, you know?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bev grins at him. “Of course. Actually, I was thinking we could go to your next meet and cheer you on? When is it?” The grin widens. “Maybe I’ll even stop by one of your practices this week.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben groans, slumping over in defeat. “Dammit, Beverly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I caught you,” she sings, reaching across the table to tug his ear. “You have the rest of the week to find something new to do.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or, what, Bev?” Asks Ben tiredly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bev only shrugs in response, and everyone knows that can’t mean anything good. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stan tilts his head toward Richie. “You talk to Eddie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie nearly scoffs. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s talked to Eddie. It’s basically one of the only things he does. “Yeah, I was texting him last period. He probably went back to sleep, though, considering it’s been almost an hour and he hasn’t answered.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stan nods. “You going to see him after school?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, probably. Wanna tag along?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stan considers this. “Yeah, why not. As long as I’m not like, third-wheeling you fools.” He smirks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shoves him, albeit a bit harder than necessary. “Shut up, dumbass.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The entire walk home, Richie desperately wants to say something to Stan. Something about how he reacted at lunch, and the other day too. He can feel the words in his mouth, and usually Richie Tozier is not a quiet person. But now he’s terrified to ask Stan what he wants to ask him. He doesn’t stop to think that maybe it’s because he already has the answers himself.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie’s in his bed, reading a book. He looks up as Stan and Richie enter the room, and relaxes when he sees it’s them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank god. I thought my mom was gonna come up here to tell me to sleep for the seventeenth time. I think she thinks if I spend enough time in bed doing absolutely nothing I’ll just be cured.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Would be nice, wouldn’t it?” Richie says. He kicks his shoes off and climbs up onto Eddie’s comforter. Eddie, as per usual, rolls his eyes but doesn’t object. Stan stands on the rug, shifting in his place. Richie jerks his head at Stan and pats the spot on the bed next to him. Stan sighs and moves to sit gingerly next to his friend. “What are you reading?” Richie pulls the book from Eddie’s hands. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Rich, give it back!” Eddie yelps. “You’re gonna lose my page, or rip it, or probably somehow tear the whole book apart because that’s what tends to happen to things you handle.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very funny, Eds. I’m not a fucking walking vessel of destruction. I just wanna see what it is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Stan leans over to look at the cover. “Oh, the Goldfinch. I read that one. It’s kind of a downer, but I liked it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course you’ve read a book with a bird on the cover,” snorts Richie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That is why I picked it, honestly. What do you think of it, Eddie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie shrugs. “I’m only half paying attention. I like that Boris dude, though.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie scoffs. “Who the fuck names their kid Boris?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fuck names their kid Richie?” Eddie shoots back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who the fuck names their kid Eddie, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys, shut up,” Stan says. “There’s literally nowhere else this conversation can be taken.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair,” says Richie. He sidles up to Eddie and leans against the headboard of the bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie yawns, then coughs. “Has Beverly figured out yet that Ben was lying about doing cross country?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure she knew the whole time,” Richie replies. “She called him out at lunch, though. It was fucking funny.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For the next hour they stay there on Eddie’s bed talking. Mostly it’s Richie making stupid remarks, Eddie stifling a laugh and Stan rolling his eyes. Richie feels safe, safer than he does almost anywhere else. Probably it’s just that he feels safe wherever Eddie is. (It is.)</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually Stan leaves, because he is a responsible boy who has to do homework. Richie also has homework but he is not a responsible boy, so he stays with Eddie. Except Eddie just wants to read his book, so Richie just lays there and talks to himself, with Eddie occasionally pausing his reading to listen in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wanna buy edibles. I don’t know where I’d get them though, or like how much they’d cost. I bet Bev could get ahold of some. I know those theater kids are always stoned,” remarks Richie.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Like weed? What do you want edibles for?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So we can get high, duh. But you can’t smoke so I figured we could just eat it.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie laughs. “That’s real considerate, Richie. But I don’t wanna get high. I’m on enough drugs as it is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fair. Maybe Mike’ll try it with me. He like, farms and shit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie stares at Richie. “What does that have to do with </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie shrugs. “Weed grows on farms.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah…not </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mike’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>farm. Mike’s farm has </span>
  <em>
    <span>animals </span>
  </em>
  <span>on it. Richie, farmers aren’t inherently potheads.” Eddie lets out a huff. “You really do say the stupidest shit sometimes. Like you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>make </span>
  </em>
  <span>yourself sound dumb. Do you </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>people to think you’re an idiot? To underestimate you?” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie can see Eddie’s irritation rising and figures he might as well add fuel to the fire because in truth, he thinks it’s a little bit cute when Eddie gets like this. So he says, “I just give the people what they expect from me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>“That’s what I’m </span><em><span>saying!” </span></em><span>Eddie all but yells. He coughs a few times before continuing.</span> <span>“You perpetuate this aura of stupidity when in reality you are </span><em><span>so fucking smart, Richie!”</span></em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie smiles coyly. “There it is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>---</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s lying on his back atop his wrinkled </span>
  <em>
    <span>Star Wars </span>
  </em>
  <span>comforter, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling. As kids, every time Eddie slept over, they’d stick another star up there to mark it. Some have them have fallen off over the years, but as of now there are thirty-four up there (they were pretty much inseparable as children, and pretty much now too). As they’ve gotten older, Eddie’s gotten sicker, and the sleepovers have slowed, but never stopped. Richie hopes they never will.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The bluetooth speaker on his dresser is barely hanging onto its remaining battery life, choking out warbled notes of Better Than Ezra. Richie lost the charging cord for it a </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>time ago, and he’s lazy as fuck and won’t change the batteries until they’re fully dead, so he’s settling for this warped rendition of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Desperately Wanting. </span>
  </em>
  <span>His eyes are closed now and he’s humming along quietly, thinking of the countless years he took for granted and the summers that always seemed to end too soon. Yeah, he’s only fifteen, but the life expectancy looks different for Eddie than it does for himself and every day Eddie misses of school only reminds him of this fact. He doesn’t want to think about the inevitable, it hurts too much, and yet its constant nagging eats at the back of his mind. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Maggie’s knock at his door interrupts his near spiral into preemptive grief. She opens the door without waiting for an answer, because that’s one of her annoying motherly habits, and sits down on his bed. Richie opens his eyes to glare at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Richie, at this point I’m begging you to either change the batteries on this or just get a new speaker. Your father and I are losing hearing </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>brain cells listening this garbage from all the way downstairs. At the very least </span>
  <em>
    <span>please </span>
  </em>
  <span>turn the volume down.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie hits pause from his phone. “Happy?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very.” She smiles at her son. “Now I can speak to you peacefully. I just wanted to see how my son is doing.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should ask him, then,” he replies, his eyes on the ceiling stars. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The thing is, I’m trying, but he has this annoying habit of diverting the question every time I try to ask him.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He sounds like an asshole. You should give him up for adoption.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Believe me, I’ve tried.” There’s a moment of silence, and then they both lapse into laughter, as is always the case when they banter like this. Richie’s closeness with his mother is something he can’t quite put into words, regardless of how often he’s tried. Yes, he’s a mama’s boy, and he’s far from ashamed. It’s a different type of mama’s boy than Eddie is. For one, Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mom. Loves her, even, despite the fact that she irritates the shit out of him half the time. It’s all in good nature and they both know it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Seriously, honey, how have you been? You don’t talk to me anymore. I found out from Eddie that you guys were in the musical,” Maggie pouts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie scowls. “You and Eds talk behind my back now?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You know he needs a normal mother to talk to sometimes.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Richie softens. “And we’re not </span>
  <em>
    <span>in </span>
  </em>
  <span>the musical, Bev is. We’re just working in the lighting booth. Some freshman tells us to push buttons and we do it. It’s not much.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just glad you’re involved in something. I’m glad Beverly pushed you guys into extracurriculars like this. It’s good to expand your horizons,” Maggie says, a look on her face Richie can’t quite decipher.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you and Bev conspire on this or something.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or something,” Maggie smiles. “We’re just too similar-minded for our own goods, I guess. Good on you for picking a friend who’s exactly like me. I’ve always appreciated that girl.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie lets out a groan. “Thanks, Mom. Now I have to stop being friends with her. Legally.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>legally. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Of course. Let’s get SVU in here, shall we?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie calls later that night, sounding congested even through the phone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s almost eleven, Eds. I’m surprised you’re still up. You have the sleep schedule of a senior citizen.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie ignores the remark. “Slept all day, can’t sleep now. Are your parents still up?” He stifles a yawn on the other end. He can’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>pretend </span>
  </em>
  <span>he’s not that tired.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” Richie snorts. “Want me to sneak out and climb through your fucking window in the middle of the night?”</span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes,” Eddie replies simply. Richie is a bit taken aback, by both the sheer directness and the request itself. Not that he has a problem with it, but what on earth possessed Eddie to ask Richie to come over at this time of night? They hadn’t done that since last summer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What, you miss me or something?” Richie tries to tease.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I do.” Eddie coughs a few times. “Can you please just get over here?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Please? Shit, dude. I’m on my way.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie’s down the block and up the tree in under ten minutes, because when Eddie calls, Eddie receives. He all but falls through the window and lands at the foot of Eddie’s bed. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, dude. You called?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eddie smiles in the dark at his best friend. “Yeah. Missed you, I guess. Wanna watch Mythbusters on my laptop?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Richie stares. “You made me come over here an hour before midnight to watch freakin’ Discovery Plus with you?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess,” Eddie shrugs. “You didn’t have to come.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know,” Richie replies, lifting himself up off the floor and sitting on the bed in his designated spot next to Eddie. “But I did anyway.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hopefully if you read that you enjoyed it!! if you don't know the song desperately wanting, go listen to it. i heavily associate it with eddie and richie for some reason and have long held the concept of a story about them based around the song. see you guys soon!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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